


The Pack Survives

by jlovesallfandoms



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, so I screwed with the timeline a little
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7344703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlovesallfandoms/pseuds/jlovesallfandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When the snows fall and the wind blows, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."</p><p>Two years have passed since Jon was declared King in the North. The northern army readies for war against the undead. Sansa tries to ensure the longevity of her House and sends Gendry and Brienne on a quest to find the lost princess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ TO UNDERSTAND TIMELINE  
> As someone once said, "Don't look to much in the plot holes or you'll fall in them".
> 
> So in this AU two years passed since Jon was declared as King in the North, but at the start of the fic is when Dany sails to Westeros, Cersei explodes the Sept, and Arya murders Walder Frey.
> 
> Basically, every timeline besides the North timeline is frozen and Arya just landed in Westeros.
> 
> Also, this fic is mostly Arya/Gendry, but the rest of the couples mentioned in the tags have important roles in the plot as well.

“You remember her, don’t you, Ser?” Princess Sansa’s blue Tully eyes were alight with hope and determination. She was a woman grown, a princess of the North, and endured many trials since she was a young girl that left the castle for the first time to marry Joffrey. In those years of death, loneliness, and despair, Sansa learned how to control her emotions. She learned how to sing songs of lies, how to get a man to believe what she wants him to believe, how to rule and rebuild a kingdom. After so long, she only allowed this small tear of hope to show in her face.

“Yes, your grace.” The knight rose from his clumsy bow. After a year of his service to House Stark, he still felt uncomfortable in the presence of his princess.

“You remember her short wiry brown hair and her grey Stark eyes, Ser?” Sansa’s voice wavered, wondering if he would pass her test.

“I remember her wild attitude, her un-ladylike antics, her love of her sword Needle, her love of her family…” the knight’s rambling slowed down until he lowered his voice as if he was unsure if he should continue. Finally, “I remember her list.”

“Her _list_?” Sansa raised one thin eyebrow in curiosity. In all that she’s heard in the rumors about her sister, she never heard anything about a list.

“She would repeat it in her sleep, your grace.” The knight grimaced as if he said something wrong. Another of Sansa’s eyebrows quirked up. He quickly continued talking in order to mend the dilemma, “That is, we only slept near each other because we were travelling to the Night’s Watch.”

“Of course,” Sansa nodded. Jon had told her as much. One year after Jon was declared as King in the North, Gendry showed up unannounced at the feet of their Great Hall. He requested a private audience with their king, and told him of his encounter with princess Arya. He told Jon of how they escaped King’s Landing, of how they grew to be friends, and how the Hound kidnapped Arya, which aligned with Brienne’s story. Gendry told Jon of Arya’s fondness of her half-brother, and that she planned to go to the Wall to find him. He told Jon that he was granted freedom from King Stannis by Ser Davos, and spent the past years trying to rebuild the Saltpans, his new home. As soon as word of the King in the North reached his ears, he travelled to Winterfell to see if Arya has returned.  Soon after, he swore allegiance to Jon and to House Stark, swearing that he would do right by his lost friend, the lost Stark. He squired under Brienne and refined his skills, and was only recently knighted. Sansa cleared her throat,“Continue about her list, Ser.”

“It is a list of the men and women she wished to kill.” The knight frowned and looked out of the tower’s window into the snow outside.

So some of the rumors are true, Sansa concluded. Some say that she joined a fellowship of assassins in the Free Cities and that she was the one that murdered Prince Joffrey on his wedding day, and Princess Myrcella on her journey to King’s Landing. Of course, most of the rumors she heard about her sister sounded more like tales from Old Nan, but there was always truth to any rumor.

“Very well.” Sansa rose from her chair and stood as tall as she could. She truly was regal, and every bit what a princess of the North should be. In another world, she may have been queen. The knight rose from his chair as well while Sansa called for Lady Brienne to enter the room. “Ser Gendry, as Princess Sansa Stark of Winterfell, I ask you to find my sister. Find Arya Stark, the Princess of the North. Bring her home to Winterfell. To her family.”

Gendry bowed deeply onto one knee in front of his princess. Despite Sansa’s age, a hint of a wry smile pulled at her lips. Of course she was aware of Gendry’s parentage. She would have to be blind if she was unaware that Gendry was the son of Robert Baratheon. She remembered when she was a little girl, she and her family bowed before King Robert. A Baratheon was the undoing of her family, and now a Baratheon was bowing before her to fix what was done to her family.

“With you, I send lady Brienne of Tarth-”

“My princess,” Brienne of Tarth stared at Sansa like she saw a ghost. She made to interrupt Sansa, to tell her it was insensible to send Brienne away in such a trying time. Brienne did not trust to leave the princess alone in Winterfell. A storm was brewing, and Littlefinger was not the only threat she worried about. Of course, Littlefinger’s presence in the castle was off-putting, and has been since he helped the Starks regain their ancestral home, but he earned his right to stay the day he brought his army of the Eyrie. Princess Sansa needed protection at all times, especially if she truly intended to go through with her plans.

However, it was the undead Brienne worried about more so than Littlefinger. King Jon had spent the year preparing his northern army for the war against the White Walkers. It has been a year since Prince Bran returned to the castle, scrawny and disheveled, frantically screaming about the Night King. Gods forbid the undead cross the Wall while Brienne was away.

“Lady Brienne,” Sansa commanded authority, “you will accompany Ser Gendry on his quest. Both of you are the last ones in Winterfell who saw Princess Arya, and my lady, this is the true promise you must keep in the name of my mother.”

“Yes, my princess.” Brienne reluctantly agreed to embark on the journey. This was her chance to fulfill her oath to Lady Catelyn, and Brienne would not fail her this time.

With that, her two finest knights left within a fortnight to find the lost princess.


	2. Gendry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, since the first chapter was only a prologue, this chapter is being immediately published. Hope you enjoyed the prologue, but onward we go.

“Curse this bloody storm.” Gendry muttered under his breath. He and Brienne had been riding throughout the North for two fortnights. The only hints they had received of the lost princess were simply rumors they would hear while frequenting taverns. Needless to say, none of the rumors had been any help on their journey. Some would say that they saw women that may look like the princess (little girls with brown hair) travelling along the Kingsroad or in their taverns for only a night. Other women outright claimed they were the lost princess.

“You have been living in Winterfell for two years, Ser.” Brienne laughed, “Some would assume you’re already acquainted with the cold.”

Gendry shook his head. Although sometimes he forgot, he was a southron-born child. He was born in the heat of King’s Landing, and that was all he knew for half of his life. Living in Winterfell had not been too difficult considering it was built over a hot springs, but this was completely different. They had trekked across the North in the middle of a snowstorm. Gendry could practically feel the muscles he had gained from shivering, and the hint of frostbite on his lips. None of the northern folk had acted like anything was different, however. This seemed to be rather normal to them, much to Gendry’s disbelief.

“We should stop there.” Brienne turned her head towards a path that wound towards White Harbor. Gendry nodded and followed Brienne’s horse, but doubted the likelihood they were to find Arya in such a big city. If her true purpose was to hide, as she has been doing since the last he saw her, the city would attract unwanted attention. But nevertheless, if one was in the North and wished to travel far by sea, they would have to go to the White Harbor docks.

The city was bustling with life and merchants selling fish and jewels from the Free Cities. Winterfell was ravaged by the wars of the past decade, and yet White Harbor was still flourishing with life. It would be hard for one to believe that there was a war going around if they were to live in White Harbor. The blue and green hues of the bay stretched across the harbor with fierce waves crashing onto the docks. As good as White Harbor was faring, nobody benefitted from winter.

“I’m going to find a vacant inn.” Brienne announced whilst looking about White Harbor in as much awe as Gendry. She then tossed him a pouch of coins, which Gendry tried his best to catch without embarrassing himself. “While I’m there, please see what you can do about our clothes.”

Gendry nodded and went on his way towards the markets. Their clothes were well enough, they mostly wore their armor anyways, but their boots were soaked through with the blasted snow.

The markets were even more crowded than the streets leading towards the city. People were racing around trying their best to buy the most food they could before winter consumed the rest of the lands’ crops and game. It somewhat reminded him of Flea Bottom, without the wrenching mask of piss in the air. When he finally found a merchant’s stall selling decent clothes, he took his coin pouch in his hands and readied to dismount his horse. Before he could, however, a small cloaked thief snatched the purse out of his hands and knocked him to the floor.

“Oi, you come back here!” Gendry shouted after the culprit, only just recovering from his fall. He quickly regained his composure and let into the chase, but there were too many damned people in the market. A woman with a cart full of fruit blocked their path, and he could see the thief nimbly slide under the cart. Gendry cursed and tried his best to jump over the cart, only to injure his foot as he landed. Of course, he blamed his worn out boots rather than his skill. As much as Gendry ran, the thief was fast. By the time the knight reached the enclave where he last saw the thief, he could only find traces of no one.

When he finally gave up searching for the culprit, he bent down to examine the extent of the damage to his feet. The boot was completely worn down with no fabric protecting the soles of his feet, which were now a bright shade of Lannister red from running across the gravels. He put his face in his hands and let out all the curses a sailor would blush at hearing. What a shite knight he was. How would he ever find the lost princess if he couldn’t even catch a bloody thief?

“What’s this?” A silvery voice sang from behind him as the blade of a cool knife pressed to his throat, “A _knight_ caught off his guard?”

Gendry groaned and slowly put his hands in the air.  Maybe he was a worse knight than Podrick after all.

“Get up slowly,” The voice ordered. When Gendry did as told, the knife was released from his captor’s grasp, as if they did not find Gendry intimidating at the least. He quickly turned around to face his captor, only to find that it was the same cloaked thief that stole his coins.

“Listen here, you-” Gendry was ready to berate the small little thief, before they held up their hand as if signaling him to simply shut up.

“Who are you?”

“Who am _I_ ?” Gendry crossed his arms. His would-be-murderer truly was daft. “Who are _you_?”

“Answer my question.” The figure sighed. “And tell me why your horse was dressed in the colors of House Stark.”

Gendry’s eyebrows pinched together. Why would his captor care what colors his horse wore under the saddle? “I’m a knight sent to look for the lost princess.”

 _That_ seemed to catch the thief by surprise. The figure lowered their guard for a moment, silence blooming betwixt them.

“Gendry!” Brienne shouted his name, riding towards their lone clearing in the alleyway. The thief glanced towards Brienne, and Gendry took that opportunity to grab his captor’s arm and twist it around their back. The thief stomped on his (now very injured) foot and swung their foot straight between his legs. Gendry was forced to let the thief go, pain and shock pooling into his body. Before the culprit could get far, Brienne’s horse blocked the way of the the figure’s exit. The thief was ready to slide under the horse and go on their merry way, but paused in shock looking at Brienne.

“ _Brienne_?” The thief whispered. Gendry took that chance to tackle the thief and pin them under his knees. In the rush of it all, the thief’s hood floated off their face, revealing their true identity. Brienne dismounted her horse and looked at the thief in awe. Gendry was too busy staring at Brienne’s reaction to look down at who truly was between his knees.

“My princess,” Brienne swung down into a low bow.

 _No_. That was impossible.

Gendry’s eyes widened as he slowly turned his head to look at his would-be-murderer squirming under his grasp. The woman stared back with equal fervor, as if challenging him. He knew those grey eyes that always looked as if a storm was brewing within. He knew those dark brows that would always pinch together when Hot Pie, or even Gendry would say something stupid. He knew that brown hair that was not so wiry anymore, but grown out and tied into a rough braid without second thought. He knew that not-so-stubby-anymore nose that would wrinkle in disgust when Gendry would joke about her being a lady. He knew those hands that gripped Needle with an iron hold. He knew _her_.

“ _Arya_ ,” Gendry managed to gasp as he scrambled off her and bent onto his knee in a bow as equally sloppy as Brienne’s. Arya brushed the snow off her cloak and stood up straight. As soon as she noticed the two knights still bowed before her, she wrinkled her nose (Gendry noted it was the exact same way she would when they were children, but of course he said nothing).

“Seven Hells,” Arya groaned, “get up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did Arya run, and what was she doing in White Harbor? Tune in next time to find out.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, please comment (even just to say hello if need be; fanfic authors thrive on comments)  
> Also, I hope this isn't too out there for you guys. This is an AU after all, and what is an alternate universe without some major alterations?
> 
> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> PS. Of course Arya's first words to Gendry were inspired by Arwen from lotr


	3. Sansa

Sansa sat in her solar as the men called the war council meeting. Word arrived of the dragon queen sailing to Westeros, and the men needed to devise a plan. If Jon was smart, he’d go to the queen and meet with her himself to offer an alliance. But then again, Jon knew nothing.

Sansa vigorously tugged on the silver threading which held her needlework together. If the men were smart, they would consult her. But they did not see the value of her advice. She was the trueborn daughter of the lord these men once served, yet they served Jon. Of course Sansa knew this was the ploy Littlefinger hoped she would fall for. Littlefinger yearned for Sansa to betray her brother on the sole motive of jealousy. Sansa knew never to trust Littlefinger, and now she knew how to play on what he wanted.

Sansa would never betray Jon. He was her family, and the pack must survive. She would not betray her family on some petty jealousy because  _ she _ was not the one to rule House Stark. She did not want to rule. Mayhaps one day she did, but now she longed for vengeance. Ramsay was dead, but he was not the only soul that tore her family apart. Cersei needed to die. Jaime needed to die for pushing her little brother out of the tower. The Freys needed to die for betraying her family. Littlefinger needed to die for handing her over to Ramsay. But she was not a foolish  boy wielding a sword. She learned how to play her own battles, and she planned to do just that.

“Sansa,” Jon barged into her solar with a panic in his eyes. “There is news from the South.”

“Tell me.” Sansa glanced up from her needlework. Jon was dressed in her father’s old clothes, or at least what they managed to salvage from when the Boltons took over. 

“The queen is dead.” Jon rambled on, as if he was still in shock. “Queen Margaery is dead.”

Sansa could feel her heart slowly fall to her feet. Of course she knew that she was a piece in Margaery’s games, but Margaery was kind. She was good to Sansa, and was the only one to use their power to help Sansa rather than abuse her. She was her only friend when she had none. They could have been sisters once, if the Lannisters never interceded with their plan to marry Sansa to Tyrion. But she was still in disbelief that Margaery died. She was too clever to get herself killed. She would have known if an assassin was after her, or if someone was plotting against her.

“How did she die?” Sansa managed to ask.

“Cersei murdered her. She set the whole Sept aflame in wildfire, killing the High Sparrow and many civilians. Lord Tyrell has died in the fire, along with Loras. Cersei Lannister is now the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“And what of Olenna Tyrell?”

“It seems that she left King’s Landing before the attack.” Jon sounded disgusted. Of course he would. This was the first mass murder he had heard of since he left the Wall. He was still unaware of the power, of the sheer evil that Cersei wielded. Sansa started to wonder how he obtained this information, but she realized it must have been from one of Littlefinger’s spies. She made a note to take care of that before she went on with her plan. He continued, “There’s more.”

“Tell me.” Sansa ordered. What more could have happened in the span of a few days?

“Walder Frey is dead.” Jon declared. Sansa’s posture straightened and felt a weight lift from her shoulders.  _ Walder Frey is dead _ . Sansa did not think she would hear those words so soon. The Red Wedding was avenged, and yet she still felt empty.

“Who killed him? How did he die?”

“No one knows who killed him.” Jon frowned. Sansa did as well. If she knew, she would give the man a fat reward and a knighthood. “But his throat was sliced cleanly through, deep to the bone.”

“Just like mother’s.” Sansa felt a chill spike through her spine. Whoever murdered Walder Frey was a sympathizer to the Starks. They had to be. But now was not the time to create false assumptions. Now was the time to act. She had to take advantage of this opportunity. Sansa swiftly arose from her chair, needlework still in hand, and sat down at her desk with crisp parchment paper ready.

“What are you doing?” Jon followed her, curious at her sudden movement.

“I’m writing to Lord Tyrell.” Sansa thought it was obvious. She dipped her sharp quill into the ink pot and began writing in her neatest script. She had not written in a while, and she needed this to look perfect.

“Lord Tyrell is dead.” Jon spoke as if it was obvious as well.

“Lord  _ Willas _ Tyrell.” Sansa sighed as she finished her heading. “I’m offering my condolences for the loss of his family. I was once supposed to be his bride, after all.”

“Sansa, this is not the time for these silly games.” Jon frowned and picked up her needlework. “And you’re sewing at a time like this? This isn’t the time for childish fancies. We are advancing onto the Night King’s army soon, and that is our prime worry. If you must sew, stitch blankets for the camp or patch clothes for the recruits.”

Sansa tried her best not to flinch at Jon’s insult. He thought she was still the little girl who dreamed of knights and perfect stitchings. How could he, after he knew what she went through at the hands of Ramsay Bolton? He truly knew nothing. Sansa calmly placed her quill into her inkpot and spun to glare at her brother.

“This is not some silly little needlework, brother.” Sansa snatched the cloth from Jon’s hands and uncurled it for him to see. “It’s a wedding cloak.”

“A wedding cloak?” Jon still did not seem to make the connection. “I told you, this isn’t the time for your fancies with weddings-”

“If you truly want to fight the army of the Undead, you need an army. The Gods know this army you’ve cultivated is not enough. We need alliances, Jon. The steadfast way to allies is through marriage. Whether it is through me, you, or even Bran.”

Sansa doubted her last example. Ever since Bran returned to Winterfell, he did not seem interested in Sansa’s ambition or Jon’s army. He seceded his claim to Winterfell and spent most of his time near the weirwood tree in the Godswood. Sansa barely saw Bran anymore, but apparently Jon saw him even less. If Sansa did not know any better, she’d think Bran was hiding from their new king.

“We don’t have time for alliances and marriage. The wildlings are getting restless, thinking I used them for my games. We need to leave. The Night King is not waiting any longer. I am getting messages from the Wall every night of the impending battle.”

“If you go to battle with the army we have now, it will be a slaughter.” Sansa turned back around to finish her letter. With a signature and a seal of a direwolf, it was ready.

“Battles have been won against greater odds.” Jon declared the same line he said the night before he killed Ramsay Bolton. But of course both of them knew this would not be the same.

“You have to trust me.” Sansa put her arm on Jon’s and waited for both of them to calm down. They were both scared. She knew that Jon would be the one to lead the army against the Undead. How could one not be scared? Sansa would do whatever it takes to ensure the survival of her family, and Jon was her family now. “Do you remember what our father used to always say?”

Jon tried not to react to the way that Sansa now referred to Ned Stark as the father to the both of them.

“Winter is coming.” Jon recited.

“No, not that one.” Sansa laughed. Her father said that far too often. Jon laughed as well. It was an odd sight to see Jon  laugh after always seeing him brooding. When both of them settled down, Sansa continued, “When the snows fall and the wind blows…”

“The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.” Jon finished the sentence for her. They both fell silent for a moment, remembering their fallen family. Ned Stark did not deserve to die. Catelyn Stark did not deserve to die. Robb Stark was too young. Rickon was far too young. All too innocent, and all torn apart from the ambitions of the evils around them.

“We’re each other’s pack now, and we need to trust each other.” Sansa removed her arm from Jon’s and went for the maester’s tower to send her raven to Highgarden. Winterfell had no maester as of late, Jon was waiting for Sam to return early to become Winterfell’s makeshift maester, and Sansa needed to hand the letter for a squire to work the raven.

“Is there any news on Arya?” Jon asked softly as he followed Sansa through the castle. He trusted her to send her two finest knights off into nowhere to find Arya, so he can trust her to do this.

“No.” Sansa left it at that. It was too soon to say, and even if Gendry and Brienne did find their sister, it would be difficult or nearly impossible to send a raven. “Have you decided what to do when the dragon queen arrives?”

“No.” Jon left it at that. Sansa wanted to push him to see things her way, but decided it was already a victory to have him approve of her plan. They needed to work together if they wished to survive, but she would handle the dragon queen another day. For now, they survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that a lot of you were probably hoping for another Gendry chapter, but I thought that it was appropriate to see what was happening in the North while Gendry and Brienne just found Arya. Also, I'm going off of the book that Sansa was supposed to marry Willas, not Loras.
> 
> So NEXT chapter is the one where we find all about Arya and her own plans.
> 
> Also, just clearing things up, when Arya arrived is around when the rumors started. She managed to kill Walder Frey and go to White Harbor before Sansa sent Gendry and Brienne. By the time word arrived at Winterfell, because this is Westeros and word does not travel fast.
> 
> Please leave a comment! :)


	4. Gendry II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read this chapter I just want to make a few things in the timeline of this fic clear so that there's minimal confusion:  
> -At the start of this fic, two years has passed since the Battle of the Bastards, and Sansa and Jon have been ruling in Winterfell and preparing for the impending battle with the Undead.  
> -Bran has returned to Winterfell, but we haven't seen much of him  
> -Arya has JUST returned to Westeros and murdered Walder Frey at the start of this fic  
> -Because Arya just returned to Westeros, that means it took longer than the show did to clear up loose ends in Braavos with the Faceless Men  
> -Because this takes two years after the Battle of the Bastards, Jon is now 23, Sansa is 22, Arya is 18, and Bran is 17
> 
> And now, onward. Hope this clears up any confusion and doesn't create more. :)

Gendry sat aside Arya in White Harbor’s tavern. The inn was busy enough that Gendry was confident they would not be overheard, but Arya was constantly fidgeting and looking behind her shoulder as if she was being watched. Even though the girl sat before him, he could hardly believe his eyes. Here she was, his friend of his childhood, the girl who he left alone for his own selfish want of a  _ family _ . The Brotherhood betrayed him, leaving him to die at the hands of the Red Woman. The witch violated him and if it were not for the kindness of Ser Davos, he would have been dead with the rest of them. Gendry wondered if he truly could have been a part of Arya’s family if he stayed with her, but quickly perished the thought.

Brienne awkwardly sat between him and Arya and cleared her throat, “My Princess-”

“ _ Arya _ ”, the young woman brusquely reminded Brienne to call her by her name.

“Arya… why did you run from us?” Brienne approached the subject with caution. After he and Brienne discovered Arya’s true identity, she decided to follow them to the tavern to at least meet with them, or talk with them. The walk to the tavern was seemingly uncomfortable, considering the ominous unasked questions in the air of the old friends’ whereabouts and forthcomings. House Baratheon was now extinct, after all, and Gendry wondered if Arya somehow knew of his parentage as well.

“I had to be sure it was you.” Arya averted her eyes to the snow outside, not willing herself to look at Gendry.

“Who else would have a sodding name like Gendry? You heard Brienne call for me.” Gendry’s pestering disrupted the aura of peace that Brienne managed to protrude between the two.

“You do not know the powers of those who can change their faces.” Arya bit back in reply. Gendry rolled his eyes as well. With age, Arya managed to cultivate quite the temper, as if she was not already a hotheaded child. However, if Gendry was not still in shock of truly being reunited with his old companion, he would remember the face-changing man who helped he and Arya escape Harrenhal. 

“What do you plan to do now, Arya?” Brienne asked after a spell of silence.

Arya turned her eyes away from the storm outside to look straight at Gendry and Brienne for the first time since she willingly walked with them. Gendry took this time to truly look at Arya, to look at the woman she became. It was known that she was only two years younger than the comely Princess Sansa, and Arya could no longer deny that she was a woman grown. She had grown into her long face and her not-so-pudgy-anymore nose. Her ebony Stark hair was no longer sheared like a boy’s, but grown out and pulled back in something that must have been an attempt at a braid. Her eyebrows were still as dark, and still framing her eyes of ice and snow. 

“I’m going home,” Arya said simply. Gendry looked at her in disbelief. Arya was never the one to go with someone willingly, and there was no way this was her final plan. She was too complex for that, and Gendry told himself that he knew her well enough to know when she was hiding something. But damn, she was good at lying. Her face was expressionless, as if she was trained to do just that. Brienne looked to Gendry as if thinking the same thing, as if checking for his confirmation. 

“What do you plan to do when you arrive at Winterfell?” Gendry asked her.

“I hear that my brother Jon is the King in the North. They defeated the Bolton army, and even Bran has returned.” Arya shifted herself in her seat so she was now comfortably leaning in her chair with her elbow propped against the arm of her seat and her chin resting on her fist in the most unladylike posture. “My family is waiting for me.”

“They’ve been waiting for two years, what makes you willing to show yourself now, of all times? Who has been protecting you for these years?”

“No One.” Arya answered simply with a shrug, as if stating that this conversation was over. She then digressed, “I will go with you to Winterfell.”

Before he or Brienne could reply, a man in the tavern stood atop his table and sloshed his drink in the air. He wore the dirtied armor of a soldier, although Gendry could not tell his colors. He instinctively put his arm in front of Arya as if shielding her from sight.

“The old Walder Frey is dead!” He thrust his drink in the air and almost fell over himself. “The Red Wedding is avenged, and a Stark is King in the North!”

Arya slipped on the hood of her cloak and watched in awe as the tavern erupted in cheers and men banged their cups on the table in response. Gendry knew that House Manderly remained neutral in the Battle of the Bastards, and yet swore fealty to Jon when he took the throne. In the years of Jon’s rule he earned the trust of the North and the love of his people, which apparently stretched even as far as to White Harbor. When Gendry looked closer, he saw that the drunk man on the table had the sigil of House Mormont painted onto his shield, which was now discarded at the floor of his seat. If it was true that Lord Walder Frey was killed, then it must have been recent because this was the first he has heard of the news.

“Piss on the Freys, piss on the Boltons!” The intoxicated man shouted in a flurry of words as he continued to untie the laces on his breeches and piss on the floor for good measure. The men laughed and the music players played louder. Out of the corner of his eye Gendry could see Brienne turning away, and looking at Arya in panic as if worrying that a princess should not be in such a sight, but only to find Arya cheering as loud as the other men.

Gendry laughed at the insanity of it all. Arya was so used to hiding in the shadows, of concealing her true identity and lineage in the fear of being killed like her father and her mother and brother were, and yet now she could celebrate her family in the company of strangers. She looked oddly happy, which was a sight Gendry managed to see only once before in Acorn Hall.

“Piss on the Freys!” Arya shouted in response to the madness around her. She looked about ready to step onto the table herself and raise her sword in the air, but quickly sat back down when the innkeeper sent out his scantily-clad whores to please the happy men. After all, now that Arya’s face and chest were now concealed by her traveller’s cloak, all that was visible were her riding boots and trousers and the last thing she wanted at this moment was a whore to throw herself at her. She then turned to Gendry with a sober expression but a hint of a smile at her face, “We leave at dawn.”

Arya tossed a coin pouch to him, which he realized was the very same pouch she stole from him while under the guise of a common thief. She then went to buy her own room from the innkeeper and retreated up the stairs. But before Gendry could go find a room of his own, Brienne whisked him outside with the force of a thousand soldiers. It took him by surprise, and almost felt as if he had the wind knocked out of him. After all, they were now outside in the mercy of the snowstorm, and Gendry could barely feel anything anymore after mere seconds of being thrown out.

“Can we trust her?” Brienne asked. They were now outside of the chaos of the tavern, and outside Arya’s presence. “There’s no doubt that’s the lost princess, but can we trust her?”

Arya was no longer the girl who hated the Lannisters and wanted to go to the Wall to find Jon. She grew into a different person, a woman who no longer only saw the extremes of black and white. She had ulterior motives, but at the root of it all, she only wanted the same thing she has always wanted: her family.

Gendry was reminded once again that he could have been her family, but once again perished the thought.

“Yes,” Gendry nodded with the finality of it all, “we can trust her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we finally got the chapter of Gendry and Arya's reunion! Also keep in mind since this is a Gendry POV chapter, we do not know all of Arya's past or motives, and therefore we're in as much of the mystery as he is, but nevertheless at least we got the reunion, right?
> 
> I was inspired by a video I found on YouTube by Mayes T called "Game of Thrones- Arya 'I have to go... my father's waiting for me". It basically gives a deeper view of Arya's speech to the woman she spared, explaining more of why she kills Walder Frey first instead of going to Winterfell right away.
> 
> Also after starting to rewatch the show I used the scene where Cat takes Tyrion as her captive as inspiration to the tavern scene. It was so different to see so many people supporting the Starks openly, and I wanted to use a glimpse of that in here.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, please comment! :)


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